Sherlock's guide to flirting
by Sherlockedlife
Summary: So, Sherlock suddenly realizes what he has been needing all his life, and tries to get it, but is completely confused about how to. Oblivious! John. Adorable! Sherlock.
1. chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This is my first fic, and I really hope everyone reads and reviews. How else can I improve? A cookie for everyone who reviews!!**

 **Disclaimer: Is Johnlock a thing yet? Is Mycroft cuddly? Has John kissed Sherlock? Then why would you assume I own Sherlock?**

Sherlock was bored. No, cross that — he was BORED! Obviously, the poor wall had to bear most of the brunt of this misfortune, but John wasn't faring any better. Experiments he could put up with, rudeness he could bear, hell, he even put up with the damn skull! But even he couldn't stretch his inhuman patience( yes, he was very patient, thank you very much) to include a bored Sherlock.

That morning, Sherlock had ordered him to make tea, and promptly snapped at him for "not making the tea like tea". Then he had gone to borrow a few fingers from Molly, and reduced her to tears. He had smoked about a dozen cigarettes, and was wearing three nicotine patches( it would have been five if John hadn't been an army doctor). At the moment, John was pretty sure that nothing short of violence was going to keep Sherlock from cocaine. Mentally, he prayed to all the non-existent deities to bring Sherlock a case.

" John!", came the shout.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Give me your gun."

John smiled smugly. It wasn't often that scored one over the detective.

"Stop looking so smug and give it to me!", Sherlock sounded exasperated.

" Definitely not. The poor wall needs no more torture, and our rent needs no more additions."

"BORED!"

"Cluedo?"

Sherlock looked at John with the are-you-serious glare.

"Okay, fine. I am calling up Greg, and I hope for God's sake that he has a case."

The conversation with Greg left him considerably more cheerful. "Young lady commited suicide her room, room was locked from inside, and she had shot herself. But the gun is missing. Want to take it?"

Sherlock looked at him with an inscrutable look in his eyes. Then suddenly they lit up in realization.

"Come on, then. The game is on!"

"Sherlock?", John was worried. " You were looking at me weirdly. Care to explain why?"

"Not now, John. We have a case!"

And John was left trying to keep up with the long-legged consulting detective.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, I am back!!! Thank you so much for reviewing, MerlynnHolmes. I managed to upload the second chapter, and I really really need more reviews. Gimme one, please? The offer of cookies still stands :)**

 **Disclaimer: No, I still do not own Sherlock, and I don't think I ever will. (loud sobbing)**

The day was going really badly for Sherlock. He had no cases. He was bored and going mad. John was no help. He suggested Cluedo! Cluedo, of all things! Sherlock spent the whole day lounging about the house. Even nicotine patches were no help. Cocaine might have helped, but would it be worth John breaking his jaw? Would it be worth the disappointment in his voice, when he berated Sherlock?

Wait, what? Disappointment? He really was growing soft.Earlier, he never used to care about what people thought about him. But John was different. Other people would get angry at him. However, somehow, John's disappoimtment always hurt more. Well, it was no use dwelling on these thoughts. This was why he despised boredom. It led to him thinking about emotional, sentimental, horrifying things. This would never do.

"John!", he called. " Give me your gun."

He could practically _feel_ the doctor grinning smugly. Damn, I wish I could wipe that stupid smirk off his face, he thought. Or maybe, I could kiss it better. Wait, what? He mentally cursed himself with some of the most creative insults known to mankind.

"Stop looking so smug and give it to me!", he hoped that he sounded as annoyed as he felt.

" Definitely not. The poor wall needs no more torture, and our rent needs no more additions."

Why was this man so annoying? Couldn't he understand that boredom was fatal?

"BORED!", Sherlock sounded like a petulant child, but he was past caring.

" Cluedo?", John asked, ever so innocently. Was he serious? Cluedo? The game that makes no sense? I gave him a glare that promised innovative ways of torture, possibly involving a lot of pain.

John gave a long-suffering sigh. Well, _he_ wasn't the one who was being eaten up by boredom.

"Okay, fine. I am calling up Greg, and I hope for God's sake that he has a case.", he finally said. God, I loved this man.

Oh. OH! That was it! This was why he was always thinking about John, feeling sentimental. It was probably why he was going soft. It had nothing to do with boredom. The fact was, he was in love with John Watson. This was why John's feelings suddenly mattered to him so much.

John had finished the call with Greg a few minutes back, and was telling him about the new case. Well, he hadn't heard a word of what John said, but it didn't matter. He had a new case on hand, and he would be damned if he didn't solve it.

" Come on, then. The game is on.", he grinned to himself. John just didn't know what the game was.

"Sherlock?", John sounded concerned. "You were looking at me weirdly. Care to explain why?"

Oh, John must have noticed him thinking about him. Well, it would never do for him to realise that.

"Not now, John. We have a case.", Sherlock tried to sound dismissive. He rushed ahead to prevent John from questioning him further.

As he looked back, he couldn't help feeling that John looked rather cute while trying to keep up with him.


End file.
